The play of the wether

Yght farre to longe, as now, were to recyte The auncyent estate wherein our selfe hath reyned, What honour, what laude, gyven us of very ryght, What glory we have had, dewly unfayned, Of eche creature, which dewty hath constrayned; 5 For above all goddes, syns our father's fale, We, Jupiter, were ever pryncypale.

If we so have beene, as treuth yt is in dede, Beyond the compas of all comparyson, Who coulde presume to shew, for any mede, 10 So that yt myght appere to humayne reason, The hye renowne we stande in at this season? For, syns that heven and earth were fyrste create, Stode we never in suche tryumphaunt estate

As we now do, whereof we woll reporte 15 Suche parte as we se mete for tyme present, Chyefely concernynge your[98] perpetuall comforte, As the thynge selfe shall prove in experyment, Whyche hyely shall bynde you, on knees lowly bent, Sooly to honour oure hyenes, day by day. 20 And now to the mater gyve eare, and we shall say.

Before our presens, in our hye parlyament, Both goddes and goddeses of all degrees Hath[99] late assembled, by comen assent, For the redres of certayne enormytees, 25 Bred amonge them, thorow extremytees Abusyd in eche to other of them all, Namely, to purpose, in these moste specyall:

Our forsayde father Saturne, and Phebus, Eolus and Phebe, these foure[100] by name, 30 Whose natures, not onely, so farre contraryous, But also of malyce eche other to defame, Have longe tyme abused, ryght farre out of frame, The dew course of all theyr constellacyons, To the great damage of all yerthly nacyons: 35

Whyche was debated in place sayde before; A ii b And fyrste, as became, our father moste auncyent, With berde whyte as snow, his lockes both colde & hore, Hath entred[101] such mater as served his entent, Laudynge his frosty mansyon in the fyrmament, 40 To ayre & yerth as thynge moste precyous, Pourgynge all humours that are contagyous.

How be yt, he alledgeth that, of longe tyme past, Lyttell hath prevayled his great dylygens, Full oft uppon yerth his fayre frost he hath cast, 45 All thynges hurtfull to banysh out of presens. But Phebus, entendynge to kepe him in sylens, When he hath labored all nyght in his powres,[102] His glarynge beamys maryth all in two howres.

Phebus to this made no maner answerynge, 50 Whereuppon they both then Phebe defyed, Eche for his parte leyd in her reprovynge That by her showres superfluous they have tryed[103]; In all that she may theyr powres be denyed; Wherunto Phebe made answere no more 55 Then Phebus to Saturne hadde made before.

Anone uppon Eolus all these dyd fle, Complaynynge theyr causes, eche one arow, And sayd, to compare, none was so evyll as he; For, when he is dysposed his blastes to blow, 60 He suffereth neyther sone-shyne, rayne nor snowe. They eche agaynste other, and he agaynste al three,— Thus can these iiii in no maner agree!

Whyche sene in themselfe, and further consyderynge, The same to redres was cause of theyr assemble; 65 And, also, that we, evermore beynge, Besyde our puysaunt power of deite, Of wysedome and nature so noble and so fre, From all extremytees the meane devydynge, To pease and plente eche thynge attemperynge, 70

They have, in conclusyon, holly surrendryd A iii Into our handes, at mych as concernynge All maner wethers by them engendryd, The full of theyr powrs, for terme everlastynge, To set suche order as standyth wyth our pleasynge, 75 Whyche thynge, as of our parte, no parte requyred, But of all theyr partys ryght humbly desyred,

To take uppon us. Wherto we dyd assente. And so in all thynges, with one voyce agreable, We have clerely fynyshed our foresayd parleament, 80 To your great welth, whyche shall be fyrme and stable, And to our honour farre inestymable; For syns theyr powers, as ours, addyd to our owne, Who can, we say, know us as we shulde be knowne?

But now, for fyne,[104] the rest of our entent, 85 Wherfore, as now, we hyther are dyscendyd, Is onely to satysfye and content All maner people whyche have been offendyd By any wether mete to be amendyd, Uppon whose complayntes, declarynge theyr grefe, 90 We shall shape remedye for theyr relefe.

And to gyve knowledge for theyr hyther resorte We wolde thys afore proclaymed to be, To all our people, by some one of thys sorte,[105] Whome we lyste to choyse here amongest all ye. 95 Wherfore eche man avaunce, and we shal se Whyche of you is moste mete to be our cryer.

Mery-reporte. Brother,[106] holde up your torche a lytell hyer! Now, I beseche you, my lorde, loke on me furste. I truste your lordshyp shall not fynde me the wurste. 100 Jupyter. Why! what arte thou that approchyst so ny? Mery-reporte. Forsothe, and please your lordshyppe, it is I. Jupyter. All that we knowe very well, But what I? Mery-reporte. What I? Some saye I am I perse I.[107] But, what maner I so ever be I, 105 I assure your good lordshyp, I am I. Jupyter. What maner man arte thou, shewe quickely. A iii b Mery-reporte. By god, a poore gentylman, dwellyth hereby. Jupyter. A gentylman! Thyselfe bryngeth wytnes naye, Both in thy lyght behavour and araye. 110 But what arte thou called where thou dost resorte? Mery-reporte. Forsoth, my lorde, mayster Mery-reporte. Jupyter. Thou arte no mete man in our bysynes, For thyne apparence is of to mych lyghtnes. Mery-reporte. Why, can not your lordshyp lyke my maner 115 Myne apparell, nor my name nother? Jupyter. To nother of all we have devocyon. Mery-reporte. A proper lycklyhod of promocyon! Well, than, as wyse as ye seme to be, Yet can ye se no wysdome in me. 120 But syns ye dysprayse me for so lyghte an elfe, I praye you gyve me leve to prayse my-selfe: And, for the fyrste parte, I wyll begyn In my behavour at my commynge in, Wherin I thynke I have lytell offendyd, 125 For, sewer, my curtesy coulde not be amendyd; And, as for my sewt your servaunt to be, Myghte yll have bene myst for your honeste; For, as I be saved, yf I shall not lye, I saw no man sew for the offyce but I! 130 Wherfore yf ye take me not or I go, Ye must anone, whether ye wyll or no. And syns your entent is but for the wethers, What skyls[108] our apparell to be fryse[109] or fethers? I thynke it wisdome, syns no man forbad it, 135 With thys to spare a better—yf I had it! And, for my name, reportyng alwaye trewly, What hurte to reporte a sad mater merely? As, by occasyon, for the same entent, To a serteyne wedow thys daye was I sent, 140 Whose husbande departyd wythout her wyttynge, A specyall good lover and she hys owne swettynge![110] To whome, at my commyng, I caste suche a fygure, Mynglynge the mater accordynge to my nature, That when we departyd,[111] above al other thynges, 145 She thanked me hartely for my mery tydynges! And yf I had not handled yt merely, A iv Perchaunce she myght have taken yt hevely; But in suche facyon I conjured and bounde her, That I left her meryer then I founde her! 150 What man may compare to showe the lyke comforte That dayly is shewed by me, Mery-reporte? And, for your purpose, at this tyme ment, For all wethers I am so indyfferent,[112] Without affeccyon, standynge so up-ryght, 155 Son-lyght, mone-lyght, ster-lyght, twy-light, torch-light, Cold, hete, moyst, drye, hayle, rayne, frost, snow, lightnyng, thunder, Cloudy, mysty, wyndy, fayre, fowle, above hed or under, Temperate or dystemperate, whatever yt be, I promyse your lordshyp, all is one to me. 160 Jupyter. Well, sonne, consydrynge thyne indyfferency, And partely the rest of thy declaracyon, We make the our servaunte and immediately Well woll thou departe and cause proclamacyon, Publyshynge our pleasure to every nacyon, 165 Whyche thynge ons done, wyth all dylygens, Make thy returne agayne to this presens, Here to receyve all sewters of eche degre; And suche as to the may seme moste metely, We wyll thou brynge them before our majeste, 170 And for the rest, that be not so worthy, Make thou reporte to us effectually, So that we may heare eche maner sewte at large. Thus se thow departe and loke uppon thy charge! Mery-reporte. Now, good my lorde god, our lady be wyth ye! 175 Frendes, a fellyshyppe,[113] let me go by ye! Thynke ye I may stande thrustyng amonge you there? Nay, by god, I muste thruste aboute other gere!

Jupiter. Now, syns we have thus farre set forth our purpose, A whyle we woll wythdraw our godly presens, 180 To embold all such more playnely to dysclose, As here wyll attende, in our foresayd pretens. And now, accordynge to your obedyens, A iv b Rejoyce ye in us with joy most joyfully, And we our-selfe shall joy in our owne glory! [Jupiter here closes the curtains of his throne.] 185

Mery-reporte. Now, syrs, take hede! for here cometh goddes servaunt! Avaunt! carte[r]ly keytyfs,[116] avaunt! Why, ye dronken horesons, wyll yt not be? By your fayth, have ye nother cap nor kne? Not one of you that wyll make curtsy 190 To me, that am squyre for goddes precyous body? Regarde ye nothynge myne authoryte? No welcome home! nor where have ye be? How be yt, yf ye axyd, I coulde not well tell, But suer I thynke a thousande myle from hell, 195 And on my fayth, I thinke, in my consciens, I have been from hevyn as farre as heven is hens, At Lovyn,[117] at London and in Lombardy, At Baldock,[118] at Barfolde,[119] and in Barbary, At Canturbery, at Coventre, at Colchester, 200 At Wansworth and Welbecke,[120] at Westchester, At Fullam, at Faleborne, and at Fenlow, At Wallyngford, at Wakefeld, and at Waltamstow, At Tawnton, at Typtre[121] and at Totnam,[122] At Glouceter, at Gylford and at Gotham, 205 At Hartforde, at Harwyche, at Harowe on the hyll, At Sudbery,[123] Suth hampton, at Shoters Hyll,[124] At Walsingham, at Wyttam[125] and at Werwycke, At Boston, at Brystow[126] and at Berwycke, At Gravelyn,[127] at Gravesend, and at Glastynbery, 210 Ynge Gyngiang Jayberd the paryshe of Butsbery.[128] The devyll hym-selfe, wythout more leasure, Could not have gone halfe thus myche, I am sure! But, now I have warned[129] them, let them even chose; For, in fayth, I care not who wynne or lose. 215

Mery-reporte. Now, by my trouth, this was a goodly hearyng. I went yt had ben the gentylwomans blowynge! But yt is not so, as I now suppose, For womens hornes sounde more in a mannys nose. 220 Gentylman. Stande ye mery, my frendes, everychone. B i Mery-reporte. Say that to me and let the rest alone! Syr, ye be welcome, and all your meyny. Gentylman. Now, in good sooth, my frende, god a mercy! And syns that I mete the here thus by chaunce, 225 I shall requyre the of further acqueyntaunce, And brevely to shew the, this is the mater. I come to sew to the great god Jupyter For helpe of thynges concernynge my recreacyon, Accordynge to his late proclamacyon. 230 Mery-reporte. Mary, and I am he that this must spede. But fyrste tell me what be ye in dede. Gentylman. Forsoth, good frende, I am a gentylman. Mery-reporte. A goodly occupacyon, by seynt Anne! On my fayth, your maship[130] hath a mery life. 235 But who maketh all these hornes, your self or your wife? Nay, even in earnest, I aske you this questyon. Gentylman. Now, by my trouth, thou art a mery one. Mery-reporte. In fayth, of us both I thynke never one sad, For I am not so mery but ye seme as mad! 240 But stande ye styll and take a lyttell payne, I wyll come to you, by and by, agayne. Now, gracyous god, yf your wyll so be, I pray ye, let me speke a worde wyth ye. Jupyter. My sonne, say on! Let us here thy mynde. 245 Mery-reporte. My lord, there standeth a sewter even here behynde, A Gentylman, in yonder corner, And, as I thynke, his name is Mayster Horner A hunter he is, and cometh to make you sporte. He woide hunte a sow or twayne out of thys sorte.[131] 250

Jupyter. What so ever his mynde be, let hym appere. Mery-reporte. Now, good mayster Horner, I pray you come nere. Gentylman. I am no horner, knave! I wyll thou know yt. Mery-reporte. I thought ye had [been], for when ye dyd blow yt, Harde I never horeson make horne so goo. 255 As lefe ye kyste myne ars as blow my hole soo! Come on your way, before the God Jupyter, And there for your selfe ye shall be sewter. Gentylman. Most myghty prynce and god of every nacyon, Pleaseth your hyghnes to vouchsave the herynge 260 Of me, whyche, accordynge to [y]our proclamacyon, B i b Doth make apparaunce, in way of besechynge, Not sole for myself, but generally For all come of noble and auncyent stock, Whych sorte above all doth most thankfully 265 Dayly take payne for welth of the comen flocke, With dylygent study alway devysynge To kepe them in order and unyte, In peace to labour the encrees of theyr lyvynge, Wherby eche man may prosper in plente. 270 Wherfore, good god, this is our hole desyrynge, That for ease of our paynes, at tymes vacaunt, In our recreacyon, whyche chyefely is huntynge, It may please you to sende us wether pleasaunt, Drye and not mysty, the wynde calme and styll. 275 That after our houndes yournynge[132] so meryly, Chasynge the dere over dale and hyll, In herynge we may folow and to-comfort the cry. Jupyter. Ryght well we do perceyve your hole request, Whyche shall not fayle to reste in memory, 280 Wherfore we wyll ye set your-selfe at rest, Tyll we have herde eche man indyfferently, And we shall take suche order, unyversally, As best may stande to our honour infynyte, For welth in commune and ech mannys synguler profyte. 285 Gentylman. In heven and yerth honoured be the name Of Jupyter, who of his godly goodnes Hath set this mater in so goodly frame, That every wyght shall have his desyre, doutles. And fyrst for us nobles and gentylmen, 290 I doute not, in his wysedome, to provyde Suche wether as in our huntynge, now and then, We may both teyse[133] and receyve[134] on every syde. Whyche thynge, ones had, for our seyd recreacyon, Shall greatly prevayle[135] you in preferrynge our helth 295 For what thynge more nedefull then our preservacyon, Beynge the weale and heddes of all comen welth? Mery-reporte. Now I besech your mashyp, whose hed be you? Gentylman. Whose hed am I? Thy hed. What seyst thou now? Mery-reporte. Nay, I thynke yt very trew, so god me helpe! 300 For I have ever bene, of a lyttell whelpe, B ii So full of fansyes, and in so many fyttes, So many smale reasons, and in so many wyttes, That, even as I stande, I pray God I be dede, If ever I thought them all mete for one hede. 305 But syns I have one hed more then I knew, Blame not my rejoycynge,—I love all thinges new. And suer it is a treasour of heddes to have store: One feate can I now that I never coude before. Gentylman. What is that? Mery-reporte. By god, syns ye came hyther, 310 I can set my hedde and my tayle togyther. This hed shall save mony, by Saynt Mary, From hensforth I wyll no potycary; For at al tymys, when suche thynges shall myster My new hed shall geve myne olde tayle a glyster.[136] 315 And, after all this, then shall my hedde wayte Uppon my tayle, and there stande at receyte. Syr, for the reste I wyll not now move you, But, yf we lyve, ye shall smell how I love yow. And, sir, touchyng your sewt here, depart, when it please you For be ye suer, as I can I wyll ease you. 321 Gentylman. Then gyve me thy hande. That promyse I take. And yf for my sake any sewt thou do make, I promyse thy payne to be requyted More largely than now shall be recyted. 325 Mery-reporte. Alas, my necke! Goddes pyty, where is my hed? By Saynt Yve, I feare me I shall be deade. And yf I were, me-thynke yt were no wonder, Syns my hed and my body is so farre asonder,

Mayster person,[137] now welcome by my life! 330 I pray you, how doth my maistres, your wyfe?[138] Marchaunt. Syr, for the presthod and wyfe that ye alledge I se ye speke more of dotage then knowledge. But let pas, syr, I wolde to you be sewter To brynge me, yf ye can, before Jupiter. 335 [Mery-reporte.] Yes, Mary, can I, and wyll do yt in dede. Tary, and I shall make wey for your spede. [Goes to Jupyter.] In fayth, good lorde, yf it please your gracyous godshyp, I muste have a worde or twayne wyth your lordship. B ii b Syr, yonder is a nother man in place, 340 Who maketh great sewt to speke wyth your grace. Your pleasure ones knowen, he commeth by and by.[139] Jupyter. Bryng hym before our presens, sone, hardely. Mery-reporte. Why! where be you? shall I not fynde ye? Come a-way, I pray god, the devyll blynde ye! 345 Marchaunt. Moste myghty prynce and lorde of lordes all, Right humbly besecheth your majeste Your marchaunt-men thorow the worlde all, That yt may please you, of your benygnyte, In the dayly daunger of our goodes and lyfe, 350 Fyrste to consyder the desert of our request, What welth we bryng the rest, to our great care & stryfe, And then to rewarde us as ye shall thynke best. What were the surplysage of eche commodyte, Whyche groweth and encreaseth in every lande, 355 Excepte exchaunge by suche men as we be? By wey of entercours, that lyeth on our hande[140] We fraught from home, thynges wherof there is plente; And home we brynge such thynges as there be scant. Who sholde afore us marchauntes accompted be? 360 For were not we, the worlde shuld wyshe and want In many thynges, whych now shall lack rehersall. And, brevely to conclude, we beseche your hyghnes That of the benefyte proclaymed in generall We may be parte-takers, for comen encres, 365 Stablyshynge wether thus, pleasynge your grace, Stormy, nor mysty, the wynde mesurable. That savely we may passe from place to place, Berynge our seylys for spede moste vayleable;[141] And also the wynde to chaunge and to turne, 370 Eest, West, North and South, as best may be set, In any one place not to longe to sojourne, For the length of our vyage may lese our market. Jupyter. Right well have ye sayde, and we accept yt so, And so shall we rewarde you ere we go hens. 375 But ye muste take pacyens tyll we have harde mo,[142] That we may indyfferently gyve sentens. There may passe by us no spot of neglygence, But justely to judge eche thynge, so upryghte B iii That ech mans parte maye shyne in the selfe ryghte.[143] 380 Mery-reporte. Now, syr, by your fayth, yf ye shulde be sworne, Harde ye ever god speke so, syns ye were borne? So wysely, so gentylly hys wordes be showd! Marchaunt. I thanke hys grace. My sewte is well bestowd. Mery-reporte. Syr, what vyage entende ye nexte to go? 385 Marchaunt. I truste or myd-lente to be to Syo.[144] Mery-reporte. Ha, ha! Is it your mynde to sayle at Syo? Nay, then, when ye wyll, byr lady, ye maye go, And let me alone with thys. Be of good chere! Ye maye truste me at Syo as well as here. 390 For though ye were fro me a thousande myle space, I wolde do as myche as ye were here in place, For, syns that from hens it is so farre thyther, I care not though ye never come agayne hyther. Marchaunt. Syr, yf ye remember me, when tyme shall come, 395 Though I requyte not all, I shall deserve some. Exeat Marchaunt. Mery-reporte. Now, farre ye well, & god thanke you, by saynt Anne, I pray you, marke the fasshyon of thys honeste manne; He putteth me in more truste, at thys metynge here, Then he shall fynde cause why, thys twenty yere. 400

Ranger. God be here, now Cryst kepe thys company! Mery-reporte. In fayth, ye be welcome, evyn very skantely! Syr, for your comynge what is the mater? Ranger. I wolde fayne speke with the god Jupyter. Mery-reporte. That wyll not be, but ye may do thys— 405 Tell me your mynde. I am an offycer of hys. Ranger. Be ye so? Mary, I crye you marcy. Your maystership may say I am homely. But syns your mynde is to have reportyd The cause wherfore I am now resortyd, 410 Pleasyth your maystership it is so. I come for my-selfe and suche other mo, Rangers and kepers of certayne places, As forestes, parkes, purlews and chasys[145] Where we be chargyd with all maner game. 415 Smale in our profyte and great is our blame. Alas! For our wages, what be we the nere? What is forty shyllynges, or fyve marke, a yere? B iii b Many tymes and oft, where we be flyttynge, We spende forty pens a pece at a syttinge. 420 Now for our vauntage, whyche chefely is wyndefale. That is ryght nought, there bloweth no wynde at all, Whyche is the thynge wherin we fynde most grefe, And cause for my commynge to sew for relefe, That the god, of pyty, al thys thynge knowynge, 425 May sende us good rage of blustryng and blowynge, And, yf I can not get god to do some good, I wolde hyer the devyll to runne thorow the wood, The rootes to turne up, the toppys to brynge under. A mischyefe upon them, and a wylde thunder! 430 Mery-reporte. Very well sayd, I set by your charyte As mych, in a maner, as by your honeste. I shall set you somwhat in ease anone. Ye shall putte on your cappe, when I am gone. For, I se, ye care not who wyn or lese, 435 So ye maye fynde meanys to wyn your fees. Ranger. Syr, as in that, ye speke as it please ye. But let me speke with the god, yf it maye be. I pray you, lette me passe ye. Mery-reporte. Why, nay, syr! By the masse, ye— 440 Ranger. Then wyll I leve you evyn as I founde ye. Mery-reporte. Go when ye wyll. No man here hath bounde ye.

Water Myller. What the devyll shold skyl,[146] though all the world were dum, Syns in all our spekynge we never be harde? We crye out for rayne, the devyll sped drop wyll cum. 445 We water myllers be nothynge in regarde. No water have we to grynde at any stynt, The wynde is so stronge the rayne cannot fall, Whyche kepeth our myldams as drye as a flynt. We are undone, we grynde nothynge at all, 450 The greter is the pyte, as thynketh me. For what avayleth to eche man his corne, Tyll it be grounde by such men as we be? There is the loss, yf we be forborne.[147] For, touchynge our-selfes, we are but drudgys, 455 And very beggers save onely our tole, B iv Whiche is ryght smale and yet many grudges For gryste of a busshell to gyve a quarte bole.[148] Yet, were not reparacyons, we myght do wele. Our mylstons, our whele with her kogges, & our trindill[149] 460 Our floodgate, our mylpooll, our water whele, Our hopper,[150] our extre,[151] our yren spyndyll, In this and mych more so great is our charge, That we wolde not recke though no water ware, Save onely it toucheth eche man so large, 465 And ech for our neyghbour Cryste byddeth us care. Wherfore my conscience hath prycked me hyther, In thys to sewe, accordynge to the cry,[152] For plente of raine to the god Jupiter To whose presence I wyll go evyn boldely. 470 Mery-reporte. Sir, I dowt nothynge your audacyte, But I feare me ye lacke capacyte, For, yf ye were wyse, ye myghte well espye, How rudely ye erre from rewls of courtesye. What! ye come in revelynge and reheytynge,[153] 475 Evyn as a knave might go to a beare-beytynge! Water Myller. All you bere recorde what favour I have! Herke, howe famylyerly he calleth me knave! Dowtles the gentylman is universall! But marke thys lesson, syr. You shulde never call 480 Your felow knave, nor your brother horeson; For nought can ye get by it, when ye have done. Mery-reporte. Thou arte nother brother nor felowe to me, For I am goddes servaunt, mayst thou not se? Wolde ye presume to speke with the great god? 485 Nay, dyscrecyon and you be to farre od![154] Byr lady, these knaves must be tyed shorter.[155] Syr, who let you in? Spake ye with the porter? Water Myller. Nay, by my trouth, nor wyth no nother man. Yet I saw you well, when I fyrst began. 490 How be it, so helpe me god and holydam,[156] I toke you but for a knave, as I am. But, mary, now, syns I knowe what ye be, I muste and wyll obey your authoryte. And yf I maye not speke wyth Jupiter 495 I beseche you be my solycyter. B iv b Mery-reporte. As in that, I wyl be your well-wyller. I perceyve you be a water myller. And your hole desyre, as I take the mater, Is plente of rayne for encres of water. 500 The let wherof, ye affyrme determynately, Is onely the wynde, your mortall enemy. Water Myller. Trouth it is, for it blowyth so alofte, We never have rayne, or, at the most, not ofte. Wherfore, I praye you, put the god in mynde 505 Clerely for ever to banysh the wynde.

Wynde Myller. How! Is all the wether gone or I come? For the passyon of god, helpe me to some. I am a wynd-miller, as many mo be. No wretch in wretchydnes so wrechyd as we! 510 The hole sorte[157] of my crafte be all mard at onys, The wynde is so weyke it sturryth not our stonys, Nor skantely can shatter[158] the shyttyn sayle That hangeth shatterynge[159] at a womans tayle. The rayne never resteth, so longe be the showres, 515 From tyme of begynnyng tyl foure & twenty howres; And, ende whan it shall, at nyght or at none, An-other begynneth as soone as that is done. Such revell of rayne ye knowe well inough, Destroyeth the wynde, be it never so rough, 520 Wherby, syns our myllys be come to styll standynge, Now maye we wynd-myllers go evyn to hangynge. A myller! with a moryn[160] and a myschyefe! Who wolde be a myller? As good be a thefe! Yet in tyme past, when gryndynge was plente, 525 Who were so lyke goddys felows as we? As faste as god made corne, we myllers made meale. Whyche myght be best forborne[161] for comyn weale? But let that gere passe, for I feare our pryde Is cause of the care whyche god doth us provyde. 530 Wherfore I submyt me, entendynge to se What comforte may come by humylyte. And, now, at thys tyme, they sayd in the crye, The god is come downe to shape remedye. Mery-reporte. No doute, he is here, even in yonder trone. C 535 But in your mater he trusteth me alone, Wherein, I do perceyve by your complaynte, Oppressyon of rayne doth make the wynde so faynte, That ye wynde-myllers be clene caste away. Wynde Myller. If Jupyter helpe not, yt is as ye say. 540 But, in few wordes to tell you my mynde rounde,[162] Uppon this condycyon I wolde be bounde, Day by day to say our ladyes' sauter,[163] That in this world were no drope of water, Nor never rayne, but wynde contynuall, 545 Then shold we wynde myllers be lordes over all. Mery-reporte. Come on and assay how you twayne can agre— A brother of yours, a myller as ye be! Water Myller. By meane of our craft we may be brothers, But whyles we lyve shal we never be lovers. 550 We be of one crafte, but not of one kynde, I lyve by water and he by the wynde.

And, syr, as ye desyre wynde continuall, So wolde I have rayne ever-more to fall, Whyche two in experyence, ryght well ye se, 555 Ryght selde, or never, to-gether can be. For as longe as the wynde rewleth, yt is playne, Twenty to one ye get no drop of rayne; And when the element is to farre opprest, Downe commeth the rayne and setteth the wynde at reste. 560 By this, ye se, we can-not both obtayne. For ye must lacke wynde, or I must lacke rayne. Whertore I thynke good, before this audiens, Eche for our selfe to say, or we go hens; And whom is thought weykest, when we have fynysht, 565 Leve of his sewt and content to be banysht. Wynde Myller. In fayth, agreed! but then, by your lycens, Our mylles for a tyrne shall hange in suspens. Syns water and wynde is chyefely our sewt, Whyche best may be spared we woll fyrst dyspute. 570 Wherfore to the see my reason shall resorte, Where shyppes by meane of wynd try from port to porte, From lande to lande, in dystaunce many a myle,— Great is the passage and smale is the whyle. So great is the profile, as to me doth seme, C i b 575 That no man's wysdome the welth can exteme.[164] And syns the wynde is conveyer of all Who but the wynde shulde have thanke above all? Water Myller. Amytte[165] in this place a tree here to growe, And therat the wynde in great rage to blowe; 580 When it hath all blowen, thys is a clere case, The tre removeth no here-bred[166] from hys place. No more wolde the shyppys, blow the best it cowde. All though it wolde blow downe both mast & shrowde, Except the shyppe flete[167] uppon the water 585 The wynde can ryght nought do,—a playne matter. Yet maye ye on water, wythout any wynde, Row forth your vessell where men wyll have her synde.[168] Nothynge more rejoyceth the maryner, Then meane cooles[169] of wynde and plente of water. 590 For, commenly, the cause of every wracke Is excesse of wynde, where water doth lacke. In rage of these stormys the perell is suche That better were no wynde then so farre to muche. Wynde Myller. Well, yf my reason in thys may not stande, 595 I wyll forsake the see and lepe to lande. In every chyrche where goddys servyce is, The organs beare brunt of halfe the quere,[170] i-wys. Whyche causeth the sounde, of water or wynde? More-over for wynde thys thynge I fynde 600 For the most parte all maner mynstrelsy, By wynde they delyver theyr sound chefly, Fyll me a bagpype of your water full, As swetely shall it sounde as it were stuffyd with wull. Water Myller. On my fayth I thynke the moone be at the full, 605 For frantyke fansyes be then most plentefull. Which are at the pryde of theyr sprynge in your[171] hed, So farre from our matter he[171] is now fled. As for the wynde in any instrument, It is no percell of our argument, 610 We spake of wynde that comyth naturally And that is wynde forcyd artyfycyally, Whyche is not to purpose. But, yf it were, And water, in dede, ryght nought coulde do there, Yet I thynke organs no suche commodyte,[172] C ii 615 Wherby the water shulde banyshed be. And for your bagpypes, I take them as nyfuls,[173] Your mater is all in fansyes and tryfuls. Wynde Myller. By god, but ye shall not tryfull me of[174] so! Yf these thynges serve not, I wyll reherse mo. 620 And now to mynde there is one olde proverbe come, One bushell of marche dust is worth a kynges raunsome, What is a hundreth thousande bushels worth than? Water Myller. Not one myte, for the thynge selfe, to no man. Wynde Myller. Why shall wynde every-where thus be objecte? 625 Nay, in the hye wayes he shall take effecte, Where as the rayne doth never good but hurt, For wynde maketh but dust and water maketh durt. Powder or syrop, syrs, whyche lycke ye best? Who lycketh not the tone maye lycke up the rest. 630 But, sure, who-so-ever hath assayed such syppes, Had lever have dusty eyes then durty lyppes. And it is sayd, syns afore we were borne, That drought doth never make derth of corne. And well it is knowen, to the most foole here, 635 How rayne hath pryced corne within this vii. yeare.[175] Water Myller. Syr, I pray the, spare me a lytyll season. And I shall brevely conclude the wyth reason. Put case on[176] somers daye wythout wynde to be, And ragyous wynde in wynter dayes two or thre, 640 Mych more shall dry that one calme daye in somer, Then shall those thre wyndy dayes in wynter. Whom shall we thanke for thys, when all is done? The thanke to wynde? Nay! Thanke chyefely the sone. And so for drought, yf corne therby encres, 645 The sone doth comfort and rype all dowtles, And oft the wynde so leyth the corne, god wot, That never after can it rype, but rot. Yf drought toke place, as ye say, yet maye ye se, Lytell helpeth the wynde in thys commodyte. 650 But, now, syr, I deny your pryncypyll. Yf drought ever were, it were impossybyll To have ony grayne, for, or it can grow, Ye must plow your lande, harrow and sow, Whyche wyll not be, except ye maye have rayne C ii b 655 To temper the grounde, and after agayne For spryngynge and plumpyng all maner corne Yet muste ye have water, or all is forlorne. Yf ye take water for no commodyte Yet must ye take it for thynge of necessyte, 660 For washynge, for skowrynge, all fylth clensynge, Where water lacketh what bestely beynge! In brewyng, in bakynge, in dressynge of meate, Yf ye lacke water, what coulde ye drynke or eate? Wythout water coulde lyve neyther man nor best, 665 For water preservyth both moste and lest. For water coulde I say a thousande thynges mo, Savynge as now the tyme wyll not serve so; And as for that wynde that you do sew fore, Is good for your wynde-myll and for no more. 670 Syr, syth all thys in experyence is tryde, I say thys mater standeth clere on my syde. Wynde Myller. Well, syns thys wyll not serve, I wyll alledge the reste. Syr, for our myllys I saye myne is the beste. My wynd-myll shall grynd more corne in one our 675 Then thy water-myll shall in thre or foure, Ye more then thyne shulde in a hole yere, Yf thou myghtest have as thou hast wyshyd here. For thou desyrest to have excesse of rayne, Whych thyng to the were the worst thou couldyst obtayne. 680 For, yf thou dydyst, it were a playne induccyon[177] To make thyne owne desyer thyne owne destruccyon. For in excesse of rayne at any flood Your myllys must stande styll; they can do no good. And whan the wynde doth blow the uttermost 685 Our wyndmylles walke a-mayne in every cost. For, as we se the wynde in hys estate, We moder[178] our-saylys after the same rate. Syns our myllys grynde so farre faster then yours, And also they may grynde all tymes and howrs, 690 I say we nede no water-mylles at all, For wyndmylles be suffycyent to serve all. Water Myller. Thou spekest of all and consyderest not halfe! In boste of thy gryste thou art wyse as a calfe! For, though above us your mylles grynde farre faster, C iii 695 What helpe to those from whome ye be myche farther? And, of two sortes, yf the tone shold be conserved, I thynke yt mete the moste nomber be served. In vales and weldes, where moste commodyte is, There is most people: ye must graunte me this. 700 On hylles & downes, whyche partes are moste barayne, There muste be few; yt can no mo sustayne. I darre well say, yf yt were tryed even now, That there is ten of us to one of you. And where shuld chyefely all necessaryes be, 705 But there as people are moste in plente? More reason that you come vii. myle to myll Then all we of the vale sholde clyme the hyll. If rayne came reasonable, as I requyre yt, We sholde of your wynde mylles have nede no whyt. 710

Mery-reporte. Stop, folysh knaves, for your reasonynge is suche, That ye have resoned even ynough and to much. I hard all the wordes that ye both have hadde, So helpe me god, the knaves be more then madde! Nother of them both that hath wyt nor grace, 715 To perceyve that both myllys may serve in place. Betwene water and wynde there is no suche let, But eche myll may have tyme to use his fet. Whyche thynge I can tell by experyens; For I have, of myne owne, not farre from hens, 720 In a corner to-gether a couple of myllys, Standynge in a marres[179] betweene two hyllys, Not of inherytaunce, but by my wyfe; She is feofed in the tayle for terme of her lyfe, The one for wynde, the other for water. 725 And of them both, I thanke god, there standeth[180] nother; For, in a good hour be yt spoken, The water gate is no soner open, But clap, sayth the wyndmyll, even strayght behynde! There is good spedde, the devyll and all they grynde! 730 But whether that the hopper be dusty, Or that the mylstonys be sumwhat rusty, By the mas, the meale is myschevous musty! And yf ye thynke my tale be not trusty, C iii b I make ye trew promyse: come, when ye lyste, 735 We shall fynde meane ye shall taste of the gryst. Water Myller. The corne at receyte happely is not good. Mery-reporte. There can be no sweeter, by the sweet roode! Another thynge yet, whyche shall not be cloked, My watermyll many tymes is choked. 740 Water Myller. So wyll she be, though ye shuld burste your bones, Except ye be perfyt in settynge your stones. Fere not the lydger,[181] beware your ronner. Yet this for the lydger, or ye have wonne her, Parchaunce your lydger doth lacke good peckyng. 745 Mery-reporte. So sayth my wyfe, & that maketh all our checkyng.[182] She wolde have the myll peckt, peckt, peckt, every day! But, by god, myllers muste pecke when they may! So oft have we peckt that our stones wax right thynne, And all our other gere not worth a pyn, 750 For with peckynge and peckyng I have so wrought, That I have peckt a good peckynge-yron to nought. How be yt, yf I stycke no better tyll her, My wyfe sayth she wyll have a new myller. But let yt passe! and now to our mater! 755 I say my myllys lacke nother wynde nor water; No more do yours, as farre as nede doth requyre. But, syns ye can not agree, I wyll desyre Jupyter to set you both in suche rest As to your welth and his honour may stande best. 760 Water Myller. I praye you hertely remember me. Wynde Myller. Let not me be forgoten, I beseche ye.

Mery-reporte. If I remember you not both alyke I wolde ye were over the eares in the dyke. Now be we ryd of two knaves at one chaunce. 765 By saynte Thomas, yt is a knavyshe ryddaunce.

Gentylwoman. Now, good god, what a foly is this? What sholde I do where so mych people is? I know not how to passe in to the god now. Mery-reporte. No, but ye know how he may passe into you. 770 Gentylwoman. I pray you let me in at the backe syde. Mery-reporte. Ye, shall I so, and your fore syde so wyde? C iv Nay not yet; but syns ye love to be alone, We twayne will into a corner anone. But fyrste, I pray you, come your way hyther, 775 And let us twayne chat a whyle to-gyther. Gentylwoman. Syr, as to you I have lyttell mater. My commynge is to speke wyth Jupiter. Mery-reporte. Stande ye styll a whyle, and I wyll go prove Whether that the god wyll be brought in love. 780 My lorde, how nowe! loke uppe lustely! Here is a derlynge come, by saynt Antony. And yf yt be your pleasure to mary, Speke quyckly; for she may not tary. In fayth, I thynke ye may wynne her anone; 785 For she wolde speke with your lordshyp alone. Jupyter. Sonne, that is not the thynge at this tyme ment. If her sewt concerne no cause of our hyther resorte, Sende her out of place; but yf she be bent To that purpose, heare her and make us reporte. 790 Mery-reporte. I count women lost, yf we love them not well, For ye se god loveth them never a dele. Maystres ye can not speake wyth the god. Gentylwoman. No! why? Mery-reporte. By my fayth, for his lordship is ryght besy. Wyth a pece of worke that nedes must be doone; 795 Even now is he makyng of a new moone. He sayth your olde moones be so farre tasted,[183] That all the goodnes of them is wasted, Whyche of the great wete hath ben moste mater For olde moones be leake;[184] they can holde no water. 800 But for this new mone, I durst lay my gowne, Except a few droppes at her goyng downe, Ye get no rayne tyll her arysynge, Wythout yt nede, and then no mans devysynge Coulde wyshe the fashyon of rayne to be so good; 805 Not gushynge out lyke gutters of Noyes flood, But small droppes sprynklyng softly on the grounde; Though they fell on a sponge they wold gyve no sounde. This new moone shall make a thing spryng more in this while Then a olde moone shal while a man may go a mile. 810 By that tyme the god hath all made an ende, C iv b Ye shall se how the wether wyll amende. By saynt Anne, he goeth to worke even boldely. I thynke hym wyse ynough; for he loketh oldely! Wherfore, maystres, be ye now of good chere; 815 For though in his presens ye can not appere, Tell me your mater and let me alone. Mayhappe I will thynke on you when you be gone. Gentylwoman. Forsoth, the cause of my commynge is this: I am a woman right fayre, as ye se; 820 In no creature more beauty then in me is; And, syns I am fayre, fayre wolde I kepe me, But the sonne in somer so sore doth burne me, In wynter the wynde on every side me. No parte of the yere wote I where to turne me, 825 But even in my house am I fayne to hyde me. And so do all other that beuty have; In whose name at this tyme, this sewt I make, Besechynge Jupyter to graunt that I crave; Whyche is this, that yt may please hym, for our sake, 830 To sende us wether close and temperate, No sonne-shyne, no frost, nor no wynde to blow. Then wolde we get[185] the stretes trym as a parate.[186] Ye shold se how we wolde set our-selfe to show. Mery-reporte. Jet where ye wyll, I swere by saynt Quintyne, 835 Ye passe them all, both in your owne conceyt and myne. Gentylwoman. If we had wether to walke at our pleasure, Our lyves wolde be mery out of measure. One part of the day for our apparellynge Another parte for eatynge and drynkynge, 840 And all the reste in stretes to be walkynge, Or in the house to passe tyme with talkynge. Mery-reporte. When serve ye God? Gentylwoman. Who bosteth in vertue are but dawes[187] Mery-reporte. Ye do the better, namely syns there is no cause. How spende ye the nyght? Gentylwoman. In daunsynge and syngynge 845 Tyll mydnyght, and then fall to slepynge. Mery-reporte. Why, swete herte, by your false fayth, can ye syng? Gentylwoman. Nay, nay, but I love yt above all thynge. Mery-reporte. Now, by my trouth, for the love that I owe you, D i You shall here what pleasure I can shew you. 850 One songe have I for you, suche as yt is, And yf yt were better ye should have yt, by gys.[188] Gentylwoman. Mary, syr, I thanke you even hartely. Mery-reporte. Come on, syrs; but now let us synge lust[e]ly.

Gentylwoman. Syr, this is well done; I hertely thanke you. 855 Ye have done me pleasure, I make God avowe. Ones in a nyght I long for suche a fyt; For longe tyme have I bene brought up in yt. Mery-reporte. Oft tyme yt is sene, both in court and towne, Longe be women a bryngyng up & sone brought downe. 860 So fet[189] yt is, so nete yt is, so nyse yt is, So trycke[190] yt is, so quycke yt is, so wyse yt is. I fere my self, excepte I may entreat her, I am so farre in love I shall forget her. Now, good maystres, I pray you, let me kys ye— 865 Gentylwoman. Kys me, quoth a! Why, nay, syr, I wys ye. Mery-reporte. What! yes, hardely! Kys me ons and no more. I never desyred to kys you before.

Launder. Why! have ye alway kyst her behynde? In fayth, good inough, yf yt be your mynde. 870 And yf your appetyte serve you so to do, Byr lady, I wolde ye had kyst myne ars to! Mery-reporte. To whom dost thou speake, foule hore? canst thou tell? Launder. Nay, by my trouth! I, syr, not very well! But by conjecture this ges[191] I have, 875 That I do speke to an olde baudy knave. I saw you dally with your symper de cokket[192] I rede you beware she pyck not your pokket. Such ydyll huswyfes do now and than Thynke all well wonne that they pyck from a man. 880 Yet such of some men shall have more favour, Then we, that for them dayly toyle and labour. But I trust the god wyll be so indyfferent That she shall fayle some parte of her entent. Mery-reporte. No dout he wyll deale so gracyously 885 That all folke shall be served indyfferently. How be yt, I tell the trewth, my offyce is suche D i b That I muste reporte eche sewt, lyttell or muche. Wherfore, wyth the god syns thou canst not speke, Trust me wyth thy sewt, I wyll not fayle yt to breke.[193] 890 Launder. Then leave not to muche to yonder gyglet.[194] For her desyre contrary to myne is set. I herde by her tale she wolde banyshe the sonne, And then were we pore launders all undonne. Excepte the sonne shyne that our clothes may dry, 895 We can do ryght nought in our laundrye. An other maner losse, yf we sholde mys, Then of suche nycebyceters[195] as she is. Gentylwoman. I thynke yt better that thou envy me, Then I sholde stande at rewarde[196] of thy pytte. 900 It is the guyse of such grose quenes as thou art With such as I am evermore to thwart. By cause that no beauty ye can obtayne Therfore ye have us that be fayre in dysdayne. Launder. When I was as yonge as thou art now, 905 I was wythin lyttel as fayre as thou, And so myght have kept me, yf I hadde wolde, And as derely my youth I myght have solde As the tryckest and fayrest of you all. But I feared parels[197] that after myght fall, 910 Wherfore some busynes I dyd me provyde, Lest vyce myght enter on every syde, Whyche hath fre entre where ydelnesse doth reyne. It is not thy beauty that I dysdeyne, But thyne ydyll lyfe that thou hast rehersed, 915 Whych any good womans hert wolde have perced. For I perceyve in daunsynge and syngynge, In eatyng and drynkynge and thyne apparellynge, Is all the joye, wherin thy herte is set. But nought of all this doth thyne owne labour get; 920 For, haddest thou nothyng but of thyne owne travayle, Thou myghtest go as naked as my nayle. Me thynke thou shuldest abhorre suche ydylnes And passe thy tyme in some honest besynes; Better to lese some parte of thy beaute, 925 Then so ofte to jeoberd all thyne honeste. But I thynke, rather then thou woldest so do, D ii Thou haddest lever have us lyve ydylly to. And so, no doute, we shulde, yf thou myghtest have The clere sone banysht, as thou dost crave: 930 Then were we launders marde and unto the Thyne owne request were smale commodyte. For of these twayne I thynke yt farre better Thy face were sone-burned, and thy clothis the swetter,[198] Then that the sonne from shynynge sholde be smytten, 935 To kepe thy face fayre and thy smocke beshytten. Syr, howe lycke ye my reason in her case? Mery-reporte. Such a raylynge hore, by the holy mas, I never herde, in all my lyfe, tyll now. In dede I love ryght well the ton of you, 940 But, or I wolde kepe you both, by goddes mother, The devyll shall have the tone to fet[199] the tother. Launder. Promyse me to speke that the sone may shyne bryght, And I wyll be gone quyckly for all nyght. Mery-reporte. Get you both hens, I pray you hartely; 945 Your sewtes I perceyve and wyll reporte them trewly Unto Jupyter, at the next leysure, And in the same desyre, to know his pleasure; Whyche knowledge hadde, even as he doth show yt, Feare ye not, tyme enough, ye shall know it. 950 Gentylwoman. Syr, yf ye medyll, remember me fyrste. Launder. Then in this medlynge my parte shal be the wurst. Mery-reporte. Now, I beseche our lorde, the devyll the[200] burst. Who medlyth wyth many I hold hym accurst, Thou hore, can I medyl wyth you both at ones. 955

Launder. By the mas, knave, I wold I had both thy stones In my purs, yf thou medyl not indyfferently, That both our maters in yssew may be lyckly. Mery-reporte. Many wordes, lyttell mater, and to no purpose, Suche is the effect that thou dost dysclose, 960 The more ye byb[201] the more ye babyll, The more ye babyll the more ye fabyll, The more ye fabyll the more unstabyll, The more unstabyll the more unabyll, In any maner thynge to do any good. 965 No hurt though ye were hanged, by the holy rood! D ii b Launder. The les your sylence, the lesse your credence, The les your credens the les your honeste, The les your honeste the les your assystens, The les your assystens the les abylyte 970 In you to do ought. Wherfore, so god me save, No hurte in hangynge such a raylynge knave. Mery-reporte. What monster is this? I never harde none suche. For loke how myche more I have made her to myche, And so farre, at lest, she hath made me to lyttell. 975 Wher be ye Launder? I thynke in some spytell.[202] Ye shall washe me no gere, for feare of fretynge[203] I love no launders that shrynke my gere in wettynge, I praye the go hens, and let me be in rest. I wyll do thyne erand as I thynke best. 980 Launder. Now wolde I take my leve, yf I wyste how. The lenger I lyve the more knave you. Mery-reporte. The lenger thou lyvest the pyte the gretter, The soner thou be ryd the tydynges the better! Is not this a swete offyce that I have, 985 When every drab shall prove me a knave? Every man knoweth not what goddes servyce is, Nor I my selfe knewe yt not before this. I thynke goddes servauntes may lyve holyly, But the devyls servauntes lyve more meryly. 990 I know not what god geveth in standynge fees, But the devyls servaunts have casweltees[204] A hundred tymes mo then goddes servauntes have. For, though ye be never so starke a knave, If ye lacke money the devyll wyll do no wurse 995 But brynge you strayght to a-nother mans purse. Then wyll the devyll promote you here in this world, As unto suche ryche yt doth moste accord. Fyrste pater noster qui es in celis, And then ye shall sens[205] the shryfe wyth your helys. 1000 The greatest frende ye have in felde or towne, Standynge a-typ-to, shall not reche your crowne.

Boy. This same is even he, by al lycklyhod. Syr, I pray you, be not you master god? Mery-reporte. No, in good fayth, sonne. But I may say to the I am suche a man that god may not mysse me. D iii 1006 Wherfore with the god yf thou wouldest have ought done Tell me thy mynde, and I shall shew yt sone. Boy. Forsothe, syr, my mynde is thys, at few wordes, All my pleasure is in catchynge of byrdes, 1010 And makynge of snow-ballys and throwyng the same; For the whyche purpose to have set in frame,[206] Wyth my godfather god I wolde fayne have spoken, Desyrynge hym to have sent me by some token Where I myghte have had great frost for my pytfallys, 1015 And plente of snow to make my snow-ballys. This onys[207] had, boyes lyvis be such as no man leddys. O, to se my snow ballys lyght on my felowes heddys, And to here the byrdes how they flycker theyr wynges In the pytfale! I say yt passeth all thynges. 1020 Syr, yf ye be goddes servaunt, or his kynsman, I pray you helpe me in this yf ye can. Mery-reporte. Alas, pore boy, who sent the hether? Boy. A hundred boys that stode to-gether, Where they herde one say in a cry 1025 That my godfather, god almighty, Was come from heven, by his owne accorde, This nyght to suppe here wyth my lorde,[208] And farther he sayde, come whos[o][209] wull, They shall sure have theyr bellyes full 1030 Of all wethers who lyste to crave, Eche sorte suche wether as they lyste to have. And when my felowes thought this wolde be had, And saw me so prety a pratelynge lad, Uppon agrement, wyth a great noys, 1035 "Sende lyttell Dycke," cryed al the boys. By whose assent I am purveyd[210] To sew for the wether afore seyd. Wherin I pray you to be good, as thus, To helpe that god may geve yt us. 1040 Mery-reporte. Gyve boyes wether, quoth a! nonny,[211] nonny! Boy. Yf god of his wether wyll gyve nonny, I pray you, wyll he sell ony? Or lend us a bushell of snow, or twayne, And poynt us a day to pay hym agayne? 1045 Mery-reporte. I can not tell, for, by thys light, D iii b I chept[212] not, nor borowed, none of hym this night. But by suche shyfte as I wyll make Thou shalte se soone what waye he wyll take. Boy. Syr, I thanke you. Then I may departe. 1050

Mery-reporte. Ye, fare well, good sonne, wyth all my harte, Now suche an other sorte[213] as here hath bene In all the dayes of my lyfe I have not sene. No sewters now but women, knavys, and boys, And all theyr sewtys are in fansyes and toys. 1055 Yf that there come no wyser after thys cry I wyll to the god and make an ende quyckely. Oyes,[214] yf that any knave here Be wyllynge to appere, For wether fowle or clere, 1060 Come in before thys flocke And be he hole or syckly, Come, shew hys mynde quyckly, And yf hys tale be not lyckly[215] Ye shall lycke my tayle in the nocke. 1065 All thys tyme I perceyve is spent in wast, To wayte for mo sewters I se none make hast. Wherfore I wyll shew the god all thys procys And be delyvered of my symple[216] offys. Now, lorde, accordynge to your commaundement, 1070 Attendynge sewters I have ben dylygent, And, at begynnyng as your wyll was I sholde, I come now at ende to shewe what eche man wolde. The fyrst sewter before your selfe dyd appere, A gentylman desyrynge wether clere, 1075 Clowdy nor mysty, nor no wynde to blowe, For hurte in hys huntynge; and then, as ye know, The marchaunt sewde, for all of that kynde, For wether clere and mesurable wynde As they maye best bere theyr saylys to make spede. 1080 And streyght after thys there came to me, in dede, An other man who namyd hym-selfe a ranger, And sayd all of hys crafte be farre brought in daunger, For lacke of lyvynge, whyche chefely ys wynde-fall. But he playnely sayth there bloweth no wynde at al, D iv 1085 Wherfore he desyreth, for encrease of theyr fleesys,[217] Extreme rage of wynde, trees to tere in peces. Then came a water-myller and he cryed out For water and sayde the wynde was so stout The rayne could not fale, wherfore he made request 1090 For plenty of rayne, to set the wynde at rest. And then, syr, there came a wynde myller in, Who sayde for the rayne he could no wynde wyn, The water he wysht to be banysht all, Besechynge your grace of wynde contynuall. 1095 Then came there an other that wolde banysh all this A goodly dame, an ydyll thynge iwys. Wynde, rayne, nor froste, nor sonshyne, wold she have, But fayre close wether, her beautye to save. Then came there a-nother that lyveth by laundry, 1100 Who muste have wether hote & clere here clothys to dry. Then came there a boy for froste and snow contynuall, Snow to make snow ballys and frost for his pytfale, For whyche, god wote, he seweth full gredely. Your fyrst man wold have wether clere and not wyndy; 1105 The seconde the same, save cooles[218] to blow meanly; The thyrd desyred stormes and wynde moste extremely; The fourth all in water and wolde have no wynde; The fyft no water, but al wynde to grynde; The syxt wold have none of all these, nor no bright son; 1110 The seventh extremely the hote son wold have wonne; The eyght, and the last, for frost & snow he prayd. Byr lady, we shall take shame, I am a-frayd! Who marketh in what maner this sort is led May thynke yt impossyble all to be sped. 1115 This nomber is smale, there lacketh twayne of ten, And yet, by the masse, amonge ten thousand men No one thynge could stande more wyde from the tother; Not one of theyr sewtes agreeth wyth an other. I promyse you, here is a shrewed pece of warke. 1120 This gere wyll trye wether ye be a clarke. Yf ye trust to me, yt is a great foly; For yt passeth my braynes, by goddes body! Jupyter. Son, thou haste ben dylygent and done so well, That thy labour is ryght myche thanke-worthy. D iv b 1125 But be thou suer we nede no whyt thy counsell, For in ourselfe we have foresene remedy, Whyche thou shalt se. But, fyrste, departe hence quyckly To the gentylman and all other sewters here And commaunde them all before us to appere. 1130 Mery-reporte. That shall be no longer in doynge Then I am in commynge and goynge.

Jupyter. Suche debate as from above ye have herde, Suche debate beneth amonge your selfes ye se; As longe as heddes from temperaunce be deferd, 1135 So longe the bodyes in dystemperaunce be, This perceyve ye all, but none can helpe save we. But as we there have made peace concordantly, So woll we here now gyve you remedy.

Mery-reporte. If I hadde caught them 1140 Or ever I raught[219] them, I wolde have taught them To be nere me; Full dere have I bought them, Lorde, so I sought them, 1145 Yet have I brought them, Suche as they be. Gentylman. Pleaseth yt your majeste, lorde, so yt is, We, as your subjectes and humble sewters all, Accordynge as we here your pleasure is, 1150 Are presyd[220] to your presens, beynge principall Hed and governour of all in every place, Who joyeth not in your syght, no joy can have. Wherfore we all commyt us to your grace As lorde of lordes us to peryshe or save. 1155 Jupyter. As longe as dyscrecyon so well doth you gyde Obedyently to use your dewte, Dout ye not we shall your savete provyde, Your grevys we have harde, wherfore we sent for ye To receyve answere, eche man in his degre, 1160 And fyrst to content most reason yt is, The fyrste man that sewde, wherfore marke ye this, Oft shall ye have the wether clere and styll To hunt in for recompens of your payne. D v Also you marchauntes shall have myche your wyll. 1165 For oft-tymes, when no wynde on lande doth remayne, Yet on the see pleasaunt cooles you shall obtayne. And syns your huntynge maye rest in the nyght, Oft shall the wynde then ryse, and before daylyght It shall ratyll downe the wood, in suche case 1170 That all ye rangers the better lyve may; And ye water-myllers shall obtayne this grace Many tymes the rayne to fall in the valey, When at the selfe tymes on hyllys we shall purvey Fayre wether for your wyndmilles, with such coolys of wynde As in one instant both kyndes of mylles may grynde. 1176 And for ye fayre women, that close wether wold have, We shall provyde that ye may suffycyently Have tyme to walke in, and your beauty save; And yet shall ye have, that lyveth by laundry, 1180 The hote sonne oft ynough your clothes to dry. Also ye, praty chylde, shall have both frost and snow, Now marke this conclusyon, we charge you arow.[221] Myche better have we now devysed for ye all Then ye all can perceve, or coude desyre. 1185 Eche of you sewd to have contynuall Suche wether as his crafte onely doth requyre, All wethers in all places yf men all tymes myght hyer, Who could lyve by other? what is this neglygens Us to atempt in suche inconvenyens. 1190 Now, on the tother syde, yf we had graunted The full of some one sewt and no mo, And from all the rest the wether had forbyd, Yet who so hadde obtayned had wonne his owne wo. There is no one craft can preserve man so, 1195 But by other craftes, of necessyte, He muste have myche parte of his commodyte. All to serve at ones and one destroy a nother, D v b Or ellys to serve one and destroy all the rest, Nother wyll we do the tone nor the tother 1200 But serve as many, or as few, as we thynke best; And where, or what tyme, to serve moste or leste, The dyreccyon of that doutles shall stande Perpetually in the power of our hande. Wherfore we wyll the hole worlde to attende 1205 Eche sorte on suche wether as for them doth fall, Now one, now other, as lyketh us to sende. Who that hath yt, ply[222] it, and suer we shall So gyde the wether in course to you all, That eche wyth other ye shall hole[223] remayne 1210 In pleasure and plentyfull welth, certayne. Gentylman. Blessed was the tyme wherin we were borne, Fyrst for the blysfull chaunce of your godly presens. Next for our sewt was there never man beforne That ever harde so excellent a sentens 1215 As your grace hath gevyn to us all arow, Wherin your hyghnes hath so bountyfully Dystrybuted my parte that your grace shall know, Your selfe sooll[224] possessed of hertes of all chyvalry. Marchaunt. Lyke-wyse we marchauntes shall yeld us holy,[225] 1220 Onely to laude the name of Jupyter As god of all goddes, you to serve soolly; For of every thynge, I se, you are norysher. Ranger. No dout yt is so, for so we now fynde; Wherin your grace us rangers so doth bynde, 1225 That we shall gyve you our hertes with one accorde, For knowledge to know you as our onely lorde. Water Myller. Well, I can no more, but "for our water We shall geve your lordshyp our ladyes sauter." Wynde Myller. Myche have ye bounde us; for, as I be saved, We have all obteyned better then we craved. 1231 Gentylwoman. That is trew, wherfore your grace shal trewly The hertes of such as I am have surely. Launder. And suche as I am, who be as good as you, His hyghness shall be suer on, I make a vow.[226] 1235 Boy. Godfather god, I wyll do somewhat for you agayne. D vi By Cryste, ye maye happe to have a byrd or twayne, And I promyse you, yf any snow come, When I make my snow ballys ye shall have some. Mery-reporte. God thanke your lordshyp. Lo, how this is brought to pas! 1240 Syr, now shall ye have the wether even as yt was. Jupyter. We nede no whyte our selfe any farther to bost, For our dedes declare us apparauntly. Not onely here on yerth, in every cost, But also above in the hevynly company, 1245 Our prudens hath made peace unyversally, Whyche thynge we sey, recordeth us as pryncypall God and governour of heven, yerth, and all. Now unto that heven we woll make retourne, When we be gloryfyed most tryumphantly, 1250 Also we woll all ye that on yerth sojourne, Syns cause gyveth cause to knowe us your lord onely, And nowe here to synge moste joyfully, Rejoycynge in us, and in meane tyme we shall Ascende into our trone celestyall. 1255